


To Love is To Hurt

by its_noma



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Angst, Angst with a sad ending, Apathetic Reader, Blood, Dark Magic Spells, Dubious Consent, Fighting, Heartbreak, Mentioned Asmodeus - Freeform, Mentioned Beelzebub, Mentioned Diavolo, Mentioned Solomon, Multi, Other, Rituals, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:27:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25299121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/its_noma/pseuds/its_noma
Summary: It’s a miracle nobody has heard the commotion and come to break up his and Mammon’s fight. Because the more Mammon tries to calm him down, the louder Belphegor gets—and yet no one appears. It’s only them and you. Their loud shouts and you, silent as ever, not saying a thing.“Say something!” he screams, voice already hoarse. Your gaze turns from Mammon’s back to Belphegor’s face. “Fuckingsaysomething, you asshole! Why are you just sitting there? Why aren’t youdoinganything?”
Relationships: Belphegor/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Main Character/Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 109





	To Love is To Hurt

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write something using the prompt "MC doesn't like Belphegor but doesn't outright say it, so Belphegor thinks they like him" since it's been on my mind lately. Threw in some Mammon/MC because I love Mammon. Hopefully I did my own idea justice!
> 
> Shout out to my friends in my Obey Me! Discord server that went absolutely _feral_ when I sent them a screenshot of part of this fic lol, you guys made me really happy! Dedicated to you guys! Enjoy!

More often than not, Belphegor finds himself drawn to you, carefully studying you. At this point it could be classified as a hobby. If prompted, he would say it’s simply morbid curiosity; a human he tricked and subsequently murdered (but not really?) seems almost entirely unaffected by his presence, and he wants to know why that is. Solomon would be nonplussed, he’s sure, but Solomon isn’t like any other humans he’s met before.

Then again, neither are you.

It’s a blessing that you seem to hold no resentment towards him. There isn’t a single trace of malice in your eyes, and when he looks at you, you do not turn away. When he speaks, you listen. When he wants something, you give it to him. Even after all he’s done… 

Is it really any wonder that he’s garnered so much affection for you? Sure, you may never smile or laugh or give more than a short comment here and there (you’re like that with everyone, he’s found), but he’s _special._

You don’t resist his advances. The others don’t bother touching you; in the time Belphegor spent in the attic, they all probably ceased doing so because it got them nowhere. But not him.

Belphegor prides himself in being the only one who can lay a hand on you without you murmuring a quiet “please don’t”. When he places his hand on your shoulder, you don’t say anything. When he rests his head in your lap after a long day, you don’t push him off. When he takes your hand to guide you through a crowded area, you don’t let go and tell him you can handle yourself.

When he kisses you in the privacy of your room after sneaking in late at night, you don’t deny him.

The first time he had snuck in, he genuinely couldn’t sleep. He woke you up and asked to stay, to which you didn’t hesitate to silently lift your blankets and let him slide in beside you. After that it became routine. Even if he could sleep soundly in his and Beelzebub’s room, he preferred to sneak away to yours. It’s quieter there. You let him do anything he wants there.

He thinks you may like him in return. No, he _knows_ you like him in return. Why else would he be such an outlier? Why else would you let him do things the others don’t have the privilege to do themselves? It makes sense. Perhaps his change of heart and making amends with his brothers helped turn over a new leaf in your relationship with him. Maybe his plan to spend as much time with you as possible to make up for lost time worked out in his favor more than he’d anticipated.

Surely that’s it. Even with Lord Diavolo, of all people, you only allow him to touch you while dancing, as is courteous. The only one who has ever gotten a step closer—yet nowhere _near_ Belphegor—is Mammon, who is constantly leaning down to whisper in your ear rather than shout whatever idiocy he usually does around everyone else.

This is something that irks Belphegor. What could that moron possibly be saying that he has to whisper in your ear? What is he saying that he can’t possibly tell anyone else? It grates on Belphegor’s nerves. On days when Mammon does it more than usual, he goes to your room early and doesn’t let you go until you fall asleep. Even then he keeps you in his arms until the sun rises, only releasing you when you begin to stir.

He can’t help being possessive sometimes. Belphegor would never forgive himself if he fell in love with a human for the first time, only to lose them to _Mammon_ of all demons. If he lost you to Asmodeus it’d make sense—what with him being the Avatar of Lust and all—but _Mammon?_ No way. Never.

But there isn’t anything between you two, he is sure. You don’t seem the type to lead someone on if your heart belongs to someone else. Why would you let him kiss and touch wherever he pleases if you’re infatuated with Mammon? It makes no sense. So despite his possessive streak getting the better of him, deep down he knows you have eyes for him and only him.

Anything else simply wouldn’t do.

Confessing his feelings is his only option. Sure, you and him could stay as you are for months to come, but Belphegor wants more. He wants _you,_ indefinitely and forevermore, all to himself. He wants the others to stop talking to and bothering you. He wants Mammon to stop whispering in your ear. He wants to draw out every deeply buried emotion he knows you have—because humans are highly emotional beings; you _have_ to be hiding them. No human is this apathetic.

He wants everything you have to offer. He’ll do anything.

Beelzebub is snoring softly as Belphegor slips out and makes his way to your room. He doesn’t want to wait until it’s too late. After extensive research in Satan’s room (while he isn’t there, of course), he knows there is a way to turn you into a demon. He will do it whether Lucifer and Diavolo want him to or not. It’ll be painful, sure, but you have already forgiven him for hurting you before. What’s the harm in hurting you one final time before you are bound to him for the rest of eternity?

You will be rightfully thankful. Since you love him so much, forgiveness will be immediate and the two of you can live happily together forever. Belphegor is sure of it.

But when he opens your door and steps inside, he finds you aren’t alone.

Mammon is curled in your lap much like a baby is in its mother’s arms, head resting on your shoulder and arms wrapped around your waist. He seems to be mid-whisper when he notices Belphegor enter. You either don’t notice his arrival or don’t care as you mouth something back to him—

Only to be cut off when Mammon exclaims, “Oh! Belphie! H…hey, shouldn’t ya knock on the human’s door before enterin’?”

One of your arms is curled under his knees, the other nestled in Mammon’s hair and casually stroking through the strands. You look completely unbothered by the contact. As if…as if it’s second nature for you to touch anyone else like how Belphegor touches you. As if this is _normal._ Belphegor is at a loss for words.

“What…are you doing?” he asks.

“Hey, answer my question first!” Mammon squawks before lowering his voice, giving you an apologetic look. You…smile. It’s the first time Belphegor has _ever_ seen you smile. “We’re just talkin’. What does it _look_ like we’re doin’, Mister Nosy?”

What. The. _Fuck._

His anger flares red hot as he shouts, “What the _fuck_ do you mean you’re ‘just talking’? You look two seconds away from _kissing_ MC right now! MC doesn’t even like you!”

“Wha—and who are ya to say MC doesn’t?” Mammon retorts.

Belphegor hates how purposefully quiet Mammon’s voice is. He hates how accommodating he is towards you, even when Belphegor was so sure it was only out of common courtesy. And yet here he is, staring as you touch Mammon like a lover would and smile at him like he’s all that matters to you!

Do you not actually like Belphegor? Have you been leading him on _all this time?_ Or was it simply to appease him and make him happy, so he could reinsert himself into his brother’s lives and RAD without incident? Has it all been a lie? Has everything you’ve done for him been _fake?_

“Woah, woah, calm down, dude,” Mammon attempts to soothe as soon as Belphegor’s demon form takes shape. “I don’t know why you’re upset, but—”

He hops out of your lap. Belphegor seethes as Mammon deliberately puts himself between you and him. He’s _protecting_ you. Of course he would. If you and Mammon are as close as you seem to be after that affectionate little display, why _wouldn’t_ he protect you? Why _wouldn’t_ he throw himself between you and Belphegor, the dangerous demon who killed you once before?

“Belphie, talk to me,” Mammon says. “Why are ya so upset? We can talk about it. If it’s because ya wanna spend time with MC, ya can always hang out tomorrow—”

Belphegor’s blood curdles. “Shut up! Shut the _fuck_ up! You don’t know anything! Fuck you!”

“Woah!” Mammon’s arms shoot up to guard himself as Belphegor charges at him. “Belphie, stop!”

He doesn’t want to listen to him. Belphegor would rather _die_ than listen to him. No, scratch that—he wants _Mammon_ to die. He wants _you_ to die a second time too, and ha, isn’t _that_ ironic! After promising himself he would only hurt you one last time so you two could be together forever, now he wants you dead _again._

Isn’t it funny that you aren’t saying anything? Mammon is able to block his attacks with ease—curse the idiot for being stronger than him—while trying to talk him out of his rage, yet you sit where you were before without a single emotion gracing your features. All you do is watch.

He decides he hates you. Even more so, he hates how much he still _loves_ you, even after Mammon stole you from him.

It’s a miracle nobody has heard the commotion and come to break up his and Mammon’s fight. Because the more Mammon tries to calm him down, the louder Belphegor gets—and yet no one appears. It’s only them and you. Their loud shouts and you, silent as ever, not saying a thing.

“Say something!” he screams, voice already hoarse. Your gaze turns from Mammon’s back to Belphegor’s face. “Fucking _say_ something, you asshole! Why are you just sitting there? Why aren’t you _doing_ anything?”

Mammon manages to grab his arms and yank them behind his back. “Belphie, for fuck’s sake! What did MC even do to ya?”

“What did MC do to me?” Belphegor stops flailing—stops trying to kick Mammon’s knees to make him let him go—and instead slumps forward. In his heartbroken fury, he begins to laugh. “What _didn’t_ MC do to me?”

“Huh?” Mammon frantically looks from Belphegor to you. “What is he sayin’? You did somethin’?”

_Now_ you move. Belphegor can feel hot tears flooding his eyes and ducks his head when he sees you push yourself off the bed and walk towards them. He can’t believe he’s crying over a _human._ He can’t believe he fell in love with a _human._ Him and Lilith are a lot more similar than he thought, he thinks snidely, because what was her downfall seems to be his as well.

Your feet come into view, then more of you as you come closer. For some reason Belphegor expects you to reach out and lift his head so your eyes can meet.

But you don’t. Why would you? Now that he thinks about it, he’s always been the one to initiate contact between the two of you. You have _never_ touched him first. You have _never_ talked to him first. You have _never_ looked at him first. Why is he such an idiot? Why did he genuinely think you liked him? How was he so _blind?_

“Belphegor,” you murmur, voice soft yet empty, as per usual. Is your voice warmer when you speak with Mammon? What does that warmth sound like, he wonders? “Please stop fighting with Mammon.”

Ha! That’s _all_ you have to say? “Please stop fighting with Mammon”? Seriously? _Seriously?_ Belphegor is going through the worst heartbreak he’s ever felt since the Celestial War and you’re telling him to give _Mammon_ a fucking break?

“Belphegor.” Never _Belphie,_ no matter how many times he’s insisted you call him that. “Was there something you needed?”

Finally his head snaps up. Through the thick wave of tears blinding him, he glares at you. “Something I _needed?_ Are you fucking with me right now?”

“You always have something you want.”

“Huh?” You look away from him as soon as Mammon speaks. Belphegor can only chuckle in pity at himself. “Somethin’ he wants? What? Can ya please explain, MC?”

You nod. “Belphegor regularly visits me around this time.”

“Oh,” Mammon says. “For what? Do ya study together or somethin’?”

“No,” Belphegor snaps, and now cranes his neck to glare at _him._ Mammon’s jaw drops seeing the tears staining his cheeks. “I come here because I can’t _sleep._ Isn’t it obvious? MC lets me sleep here all the time! Don’t tell me you didn’t know, what with how _close_ you two are.”

Mammon shakes his head. “Uh, not really.”

So you don’t even _talk_ about him. Why is Belphegor surprised? Why is _any_ of this surprising? It was so _obvious._ The whispered conversations are only the tip of the iceberg, he knows now. If he hadn’t been blinded by his adoration for you, he would’ve seen that your heart belonged to another.

“I don’t even know why I’m so shocked,” he laments. When his legs give out, Mammon lets him sink onto the floor between them. The hand loosely holding his tail tightens. “To think you were playing with my heart this entire time...I thought I was special because you let me do whatever I wanted to you. I—”

“Wait a sec,” Mammon interjects, “whaddya mean, _whatever you want—”_

“We’ve kissed!” Belphegor shouts. He buries his face in his hands as the anger and sorrow mix together, and soon he’s sobbing loudly, too hurt to be properly embarrassed. “We’ve hugged and kissed and—and—”

“What, seriously?” Mammon, wide-eyed, stares at you for confirmation.

You nod without shame. “Yes.”

“Shit.” He scratches the back of his neck with his free hand. “Belphie, I’m so sorry—”

“Save it.” Belphegor hates how warbled and _pathetic_ he sounds. He sounds like a child who didn’t get the toy they wanted. Now isn’t that just _tragic?_ “I don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not pity!”

Before he can tell Mammon to piss off and die, you ask again, “Did you need something?”

“Hah?” Belphegor pulls his face out of his hands to stare at you incredulously. “You’re still on that?”

“I can’t change how I feel,” you state simply, “much like you can’t change how you feel. Was there something you wanted tonight?”

A million emotions threaten to consume him all at once. He wants to die. He wants Mammon to die. He wants _you_ to die. Why is life so unfair? Why does he always have to suffer? Wasn’t losing everything in the war _enough?_

Yet, more than anything else, he still wants you. He wants to go through the painful process of making you a demon like him. He wants you to _grow_ to love him. He wants you to give up on Mammon and become wholly devoted to him.

Yes...yes, he wants you to realize that he’s the superior choice, not Mammon. What will Mammon ever give you? Never-ending debt? Stupid jokes that don’t make sense? A brain that doesn’t work? You’re better off with Belphegor. You’re better off by his side, living only to love him. You’re better off devoting yourself to remaining by his side until the end of time.

You may resent him for it at first, but Belphegor is sure you will come around. After all, you came around once before, even if it was an obligation to appease him and everyone else. Belphegor knows he can change your mind about him. If there is one thing he is good at, it’s manipulation.

“You’re right,” he agrees.

If you’re surprised, you don’t show it. “Yes.”

“Come here…please.” Silently, you do as he says and kneel before him. “Thank you. I’ll leave you and Mammon alone if you let me do one last thing.”

Mammon asks before you can, “Whaddya wanna do?”

“Give us some privacy,” Belphegor tells him in lieu of an answer.

“What?” Mammon shakes his head. “Ya just went on a whole rampage at me! MC isn’t as strong as me, if ya hurt—”

“I’m not gonna hurt anybody, you idiot!” he snaps. “I just…wanna talk. Clear the air.”

Mammon shifts nervously from foot to foot, uncertain. Belphegor stares at you in earnest, but you don’t meet his gaze. Your gaze is instead locked with Mammon’s. It’s almost as if you two are having a conversation merely with the way you look at each other, determining what decision would be best with your eyes alone.

That could be you and Belphegor instead. No, that _will_ be you and Belphegor. Soon.

“Fine,” Mammon relents. “Call me if ya need me, MC.”

He lets go of Belphegor’s tail and leaves. Belphegor can’t even believe how easy that was. You must trust Mammon a great deal to rely on him if you get hurt, huh? Of course you would trust him. You like him, don’t you? You _love_ him, don’t you?

The thought makes him sick. He pushes it away in order to focus on what he has to do in order to turn you into a demon. It’s an extensive ritual spell. Even so, he doesn’t have much time before Mammon barges in asking what the hold up is, so he has to be quick.

Belphegor’s blood is the most essential part of this. In essence, your blood must mix with his. He recites a spell and, once that occurs, his blood will basically _taint_ yours like a virus and rapidly work to replace your human cells with his demon ones. It will take a while, but soon his blood will flow through you for all of eternity, screaming to all of the three realms that you belong to him. Mammon will never be able to rewrite it.

“Kiss me,” he all but begs.

You blink. “That’s all?”

“One last time.” How you are devoted to Mammon but simultaneously don’t say no to kissing Belphegor makes him wonder what kind of relationship you two actually have. “I’ve always initiated it, but never you. Please, just this once…”

It’s pathetic to beg like this. Belphegor feels like a malnourished dog _groveling_ for a scrap of meat from a butcher. Whatever. He’ll suffer through the embarrassment if it means getting to keep you all to himself from now on.

A part of him, buried far enough deep inside of him he doesn’t register it, feels bad for doing this to you and hurting Mammon in the crossfire. But he doesn’t want to end up like Lilith, as cruel as that sounds.

_Dear sister,_ he prays as you nod and lean closer, _please don’t hate me for securing the one I love like this. You weren’t one-hundred percent in the right yourself._

He scrapes his tongue along the sharp points of his teeth. Cuts that’ll heal by tomorrow afternoon ooze blood as you press your lips to his, and he wastes no time in grabbing you by the neck and forcing your mouth open to transfer it over.

For the first time, you struggle. It startles Belphegor at first—makes him loosen his hold on your neck for the shortest millisecond—but he holds fast. He swallows every soft noise of your complaints with ease. Even now, with him shoveling blood into your mouth, you can’t bring yourself to push him away and shout for help.

Belphegor has always adored your amenability.

All you have to do is swallow. All you have to do is give up on holding all his blood in your mouth and let it all slide down, down, _down_ and corrupt you. _Let it consume you, MC. Please. For me. For us._

But you don’t. Even when there is enough of his blood in your mouth that there isn’t room for anything else, you don’t swallow. Belphegor pulls away with a scowl, slapping a hand over your mouth before you can spit it all out.

“Why aren’t you swallowing?” He pinches your nose to effectively cut off your airflow. “Do it. _Swallow._ What are you trying to prove? Don’t you want to make me happy?”

Your body convulses as your lungs try taking in oxygen they don’t have. Belphegor grips your nose harder. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

It’s the first time he’s seen _that_ too.

All you do is stare and stare and _stare_ until your eyes cloud over and slip closed. You’re about to pass out. Why? _Why?_ All you have to do is swallow and everything will be perfect, but you’d rather lose consciousness than do that!

Just swallow! _Just swallow and I’ll let you go!_

Your grip on his wrists loosens.

He can’t take this.

Belphegor releases you. Your eyes flutter open as you inhale through your nose. It takes a moment to collect your bearings before you open your mouth. You are ever careful of where the blood lands—not wanting to stain the floor, he derisively sneers to himself—and so all of it ends up staining your pajamas.

“Why won’t you do it?” His voice drops into a pitifully broken whisper as he asks, “Why won’t you become mine?”

You don’t respond. Belphegor can’t look at you. He was so close. _So close._ He can’t stand how wishy-washy he is; he was planning to do _any_ thing for you to become his, but the second you struggled and made it clear you’d truly rather do anything than what he wants, he can’t go through with it.

You don’t want to be his. You don’t love him. You love _Mammon._ Out of all the demons in the Devildom, and _Mammon_ is who you choose. Why is Mammon so lucky? Why does that greedy bastard get the _one_ thing Belphegor wants more than anything else? If it didn’t hurt so much, Belphegor would think he’s dreaming.

For the second time tonight, he cries.

Unsurprisingly, you do not comfort him. You do not speak at all. All you do is stare past him at the door.

Before he can wonder why, it slams open. It’s not Mammon who shouts, “What is going on in here?”

It’s Lucifer.

Belphegor doesn’t have even a fraction of a second to react before he’s being grabbed by the shoulders and yanked away from you. He fights it but knows, in the end, it’s useless to even try. Like Mammon, Lucifer is stronger than him.

Mammon is at your side instantly. “What happened?! You’re bleeding!”

“No,” Lucifer denies, “that’s Belphie’s blood.”

Mammon whips around to stare at Belphegor, eyes as wide as saucers. “Huh? What? _Why?”_

“That’s what I want to know as well.”

Belphegor can only glare at you through his tears. He had been so close. He had been _so fucking close!_ And now it’s all over. You will never be his. He will be forced to explain what he did whether he wants to or not, and Lucifer will never allow him to even step foot in the same _room_ as you. Your devotion—your _love_ —will be but a hopeless desire.

Mammon wins.

“He wanted to kiss me.” All eyes turn to you. “I let him. He cut his tongue while in his demon form.”

Huh?

Lucifer’s eyes narrow. “That’s all?”

Somehow, Belphegor feels like you know _exactly_ what he was trying to do. Why else would you resist drinking his blood? If you have wanted to appease him all this time, you would’ve done so to make him happy. Yet you struggled; you tried getting away from him.

There is something calculated behind your monotonous gaze. Your eyes are as dull and empty as they always are, but when they fall on him—unbidden for the first time tonight (for the first time _ever_ )—he just _knows._

“Yes,” you answer.

“Yes,” you answer.

Mammon seems satisfied with that answer. “Makes sense, I guess. He went into a rampage earlier, so he was probably just bein’ careless.”

“Did he?” Lucifer’s grip on Belphegor’s shoulders tightens. “You didn’t tell me about that when you woke me.”

“Then why are you here?” Belphegor snaps.

“All Mammon said was ‘reinforcement’,” Lucifer explains. “Knowing him, I feared he was about to do something stupid.”

“Hey!”

Belphegor turns his gaze to you. You’re still staring at him. For a moment he feels something between you two—but as soon as it comes it goes, and he is left feeling painfully empty and just as heartbroken as before.

“Is someone going to explain why Belphegor was upset, or will we have to do this the hard way?” Lucifer queries.

Belphegor shakes his head. He can’t stand you looking at him. All he ever wanted was for you to look at him—to love him as much as he loves you—but it all feels so meaningless now.

He has to get out of here. He has to go back to the attic. If he goes back to his room, he’d only wake up Beelzebub and worry him—he can’t worry yet another one of his brothers with this. He has to retreat to the first place he had met you, when you were simply a wretched human and he an imprisoned demon. Back when he hadn’t the smallest piece of love for you.

“Let me go,” he says, then louder when Lucifer doesn’t move, “Let me _go!”_

“Not until you explain yourself,” Lucifer responds.

“Have Mammon explain it!” Belphegor peels his eyes away from yours to glare at Mammon. “Explain it, won’t you, you dimwit? I’m tired. I wanna sleep. I _don’t_ wanna talk about this right now.”

Before either Mammon or Lucifer object, you say, “Okay. We’ll explain. Good night.”

“What?” Mammon turns, bug-eyed, to you now. “After all that, you just wanna let him go?”

Lucifer’s brows knit together. “‘After all that’? You have some explaining to do—”

“In the morning,” you promise. “It’s late. I would also like to sleep.”

Why are you doing this? Why are you giving Belphegor an out? Why aren’t you ratting him out? It’s obvious you know. It’s obvious because...because…

Maybe you want to do the same thing but with Mammon. Maybe you had done research yourself and were planning to do it tonight too. The possibilities are endless. Maybe—

“First thing in the morning then,” Lucifer relents. Belphegor is released; he rubs his shoulders and winces even though they don’t hurt, if only to see the way Lucifer’s eyes flicker with something akin to an apology. He’d never say it aloud otherwise. “All three of you will come to my office before breakfast and explain.”

“Roger,” Mammon dejectedly agrees.

You nod. “Of course.”

“Whatever.” His blood is still embedded in the material of your pajamas. At this point it will permanently stain, and you will have to get a new set to wear to bed. Will you throw them out or keep them, as a reminder of tonight?

No. You won’t. Because you don’t love him and never will. You may be merciful enough to not admit the truth to Lucifer so Belphegor isn’t banned from spending time with you, but that does not equate to love. It never will. With Mammon in the picture, you will never spare him another unbidden glance.

Lucifer bids you all good night and leaves. The door remains open, a silent demand for Belphegor to follow, but he doesn’t leave until he’s sure Lucifer has given up on waiting for him and is no longer lingering in the hallway.

He leaves without a word. When he turns to close the door behind him, he finds you aren’t looking at him anymore. Your eyes are only on Mammon. How typical.

“Are ya sure you’re okay? That’s all Belphie’s blood?”

“Yes. I’m fine. You can’t tell the blood isn’t mine?”

“I—of course I can! Just…geez. Scared me half to death, MC. Here, let’s get ya outta these clothes—”

“Mammon.”

Belphegor is positive you know he’s on the other side of the door, listening.

“Yeah? What is it?”

“I love you.”

His heart clenches painfully in his chest. Of course. You may be merciful, but you are also selfish like all other humans, and will not hesitate to rub salt into his wounds.

“Huh—uh! I love ya too! Geez, don’t spring that on me outta the blue!”

Finally he peels himself away from the door and allows himself to leave.

Ha. Isn’t that funny? Belphegor has never been jealous of Mammon for anything until now.

_There’s a first for everything, I guess._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
